‘A woman who aches to have my hands on her, a lass who trembles at my kiss and blushes when I look her way.’
‘Oh, you mean a slave and a craven fool of a woman.’
‘I mean a woman with a passionate soul and an open heart. You are not that woman.’
Tears welled in Lowri’s eyes, shocking, dousing his anger. ‘Do you know what kind of man I want?’ she said.
Cullen shook his head.
‘One that doesn’t lie with me out of pity and obligation, one who yearns for me, comforts and protects me. I want a man who makes me feel safe, if just for a few hours, so that I can calm my heart, which has not stopped racing since I went reiving that night and got caught.’
‘There’s no need to cry.’ Cullen put a thumb to Lowri’s wet cheeks and wiped away her tears.
‘I know you feel shame when you go inside me,’ she sobbed. ‘And I feel used and worthless, just like a whore. I may as well be one.’
Cullen’s temper softened to guilt, for he hated women crying. ‘You are wrong.’
‘You don’t want me.’
‘Don’t tell me what I want.’
‘I am nothing to you but a bed warmer, something to use when you feel like it. That is what my life is reduced to now.’
‘That’s not how it is, lass.’
‘What am I then? Some awful chore you have to perform each night in darkness and shame.’
‘Tis neither pity nor obligation that drives me to your bed, Lowri.’
‘Then what is it?’
‘Desire.’
The word hung between them, heavy, potent. Cullen was shocked that he had said aloud what he had been denying since their wedding night. It was a terrible admission of weakness, and, of course, Lowri threw it back in his face.
‘Do not lie. You feel no passion for me, and you never will.’
His breath caught. Rage and lust got tangled in his gut so that he could not think anymore. He could only feel.
‘If it’s passion you want, then I’ll show you passion,’ he snarled, taking hold of Lowri and kissing the life out of her. Her tears were salty in his mouth. Her hair had caught the smell of the sea and spring, and Cullen wanted her with a violence that shocked him.
Lowri whimpered as he kissed her jaw, her neck, the hollow at her throat. Words spilt out which he was powerless to control. ‘You hold my thoughts prisoner, you witch, and I’ve had enough of this cold arrangement. I’ve had enough of my father controlling what I do and feel.’
He kissed the top of her breasts, and she sank her fingers into his hair. When he pressed his face to her warm mounds of flesh, he smelled grass and sweetness. ‘I won’t let you think of Butcher. I need to be inside you, now, to feel your heart beat against mine.’
‘Cullen,’ she gasped. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I don’t care,’ he said, lifting her by the waist and throwing her onto the bed. Lowri was limp in his arms, no resistance. He pushed up her skirt and kissed the gentle mound of her belly. ‘I’ll not have you thinking of him,’ he snarled against her skin. ‘There’ll be me and no one else.’
‘I don’t. I won’t. Cullen, what are you doing?’
‘You said you wanted comforting. Will you have me?’ he snarled.
She didn’t say no, so he spread her legs wide and took hold of her bottom. He nuzzled the soft down between her thighs with his nose. She made a half-hearted attempt to close her legs, but Cullen gently prised them open.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, all wide, tearful eyes.
‘You will,’ he replied, laying her down and spreading her for a gentle swipe of his tongue. At first, Lowri stiffened under his touch and tried to twist out of his firm grasp on her thighs. But he was patient and gentle, and soon, her protestations turned to sighs, and then deep moans, as he flattened his tongue and gorged on her coppery sweetness as if he was devouring a ripe peach. Lowri threw back her head and gasped. ‘Cullen, you mustn’t.’
